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Friday, February 5, 2016

Flash Fiction Challenge!

Hey everyone! I'm participating in the Flash Fiction Challengeon Rachelle's blog The Ink Lofttoday! :D Yay!!! This was my first time, and I'm not sure how well I did, but it was fun. :)

Here's the prompt I was given...

And here's what I came up with... :)

The redlight changed to green and he stomped the accelerator. The sleek, black sports car glided on down the street before making a left turn and continuing down into the impoverished parts of the city.

Phillip Barnard relaxed, one arm rested across the steering wheel. His counterfeiting enterprise was prospering, and his empire, including all the wealth and power he desired, was within his reach. All he had to do was grasp it.

And today, yet again, he'd ‘gotten away with murder’ as the saying goes. Before he'd wondered if he'd be able to keep his illegal money-making venture a secret. Now, with that Adams guy out of the picture, there was nothing standing between him and what he wanted.

Throwing a quick glance around the intersection, he checked to be sure no one was paying him any attention and swerved around the back of a dark, run-down warehouse.

He parked his car near the back of the building where no one, with the exception of the few trusted people who may be coming and going, could see it. Nothing good could come from someone spotting him here. Especially now.

Reaching over the seat, he grabbed his hat and a stack of false accounts from his real occupation and raced through the drizzling rain to the closest door. Barnard ducked inside and shook the water from his overcoat. Never did like rain.

As he was climbing the first of several flights of stairs to his office, a strong blast of dust and warm air hit him from above. He froze and listened. A motor could be heard running in another part of the warehouse.

“I told that Cullen not to turn on those blasted fans,” he grumbled out loud. “One strong gust through the wrong room at the wrong time could uncover our entire operation.” He quickly continued on his way, fully intent on giving the culprit of this act, and anyone else nearby, a piece of his mind.

Halfway up through the building, a second mysterious circumstance revealed itself to him.

Paper, make that lots of papers, were floating through the air around him! He caught one of them and his stomach rolled as he realized what it was. Money. Counterfeit money. His counterfeit money.

Barnard looked up at the millions of loose articles drifting past him. They weren't all green though…

He snagged several more in his grasp and was able to confirm his suspicions. They weren't all money. Some of them were other papers. Receipts, reports, records, phony checks. More than enough evidence to lock him up for life.

“Problems, Barnard?”

Barnard whirled around to find the origin of the annoying voice. A man stood at the top of the flight of stairs, arms crossed and jaw set. It was him.

Barnard eyed him up and down before speaking. “You look pretty good for a dead man, Adams.” Sarcasm edged his tone. “Apparently Plait is as much a liar and a traitor as you.”

Adams shrugged. “We are alike in one aspect. We both wanted out of your little game. Problem was, he was in this mess quite a bit deeper than I ever could've been.” He paused, studied Barnard intently, and then went on. “I thought I could get out easily, and you could've let me. But you were scared, Barnard. Scared that I knew more than I let on. So you came after me. That was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Barnard repeted with a smirk. “Why do you say that, genius?”

Adams clomped down the stairs toward him, still talking. “I had nothing on you but a few suspicions, things that didn't quite add up. I didn't fully know all the ins and outs of your undercover empire until today. I wouldn't have went to the cops with what little I knew. But after all you did? You left us no choice, Barnard, but to turn you in.”

Barnard wasn't buying into this. “Like you'd tell me the truth about anything.” He pointed back down the stairs. “I'm going to give you two minutes to get out of here before I have my men come and get you. And if it comes to that you're not leaving.”

“That's not going to happen. Neither of your options are.”

“Oh, really?”

“Give it up, Phillip.” Adams eyes sent out a silent plea. “Give it up.”

He gave a short laugh. “Or what? You're just one man. What can you do?”

Oooh, I really like this! I love how you interpreted the picture -- I didn't even think of that possibility.

I didn't have much to comment on. But this part: “I told that Cullen not to turn on those blasted fans,” he grumbled out loud. “One strong gust through the wrong room at the wrong time could uncover our entire operation.” ... I would put the dialogue in his mind (italicize it) instead of him speaking it outloud. Especially when he's trying to do all this sneaky stuff, it seems a bit weird that he would just speak his thoughts out loud.

Here: Barnard repeted with a smirk. It should be "repeated." :)

Finally: “Give it up, Phillip.” Adams eyes sent out a silent plea. “Give it up.” I know Phillip is his first name, but throughout the WHOLE story you use Barnard, so it threw me off a bit when Adam called him Phillip. I'd try to keep the name constant throughout it. :)

Really good, Faith! I enjoyed reading it. :) Hope it wasn't too hard for you to come up with an idea. :P

Thanks so much for your critique! I'm going to work back over this. ;)

Haha, sorry to laugh at that last line. xD At first I was suffering from severe writers block....like BAD. Then one day I was studying in the picture, and I was like "wait a minute... What's that stuff floating through the air?!" And all of it came from there. :)

About Me.

Saved by God's grace, I'm a teenage writer and homeschooled PK, living with my family and beloved yellow labs in the southeastern US. When I'm not writing stories, consuming large amounts of coffee, reading stacks of books, or creating wheel-thrown pottery, I can be found laughing harder than is healthy, daydreaming, and – of course – blowing dandelions.